Dream catcher
by BardDown
Summary: After surviving the events of Modern Warfare 2, Ghost and Roach try to go back to normal lives, but something is eating at Ghost.


I, Garold Sanderson, hate the dark with a burning passion. I don't know why, I just do. My eyes followed every shadow nervously as I made my way to the warehouse on the outskirts of the base.

Luckily, I was able to make it to the already open door with out seeing a ghoul or monster. I walked carefully among the crates, my eyes barley adjusting the harsh white ceiling lights. Finally, perched on a washing machine sized wooden box, I found who I was looking for. Ghost.

The Englishman often frequented the eerie warehouse, sitting alone among the towers of crates containing supplies. Where his obsession for this moldy building came from, I have no fucking clue. I cursed him for not picking a more pleasant spot to be his happy place as I approached him.

"Ghost?"

He either ignored me or simply didn't hear me. He just sat, head leaning against another crate beside him, trembling. Ghost was famous for being able to hear boots on gravel for what seemed to be miles away, so the fact I was now standing right behind him un-noticed worried me. I reached out and nudged his elbow, trying my best not to scare him.

I failed.

Ghost sprang up from his seat and spun around, unmasked. He eased slightly when he saw it was only me, but his icy blue eyes were still a mix of misery and fear.

"R-Roach? The bloody hell are you doing here?"

Still a little shocked myself from his reaction, I spoke carefully. Last thing I needed was a knife to my throat. The bullet hole in my abdomen from Shepherd was enough.

"I got up to take a leak, and your bedroom door was wide open. I figured you would be here."

The Englishman nodded, not at all surprised. This told me he either already knew or just didn't give a rats ass.

I desperately wanted to end this awkward moment with a "Well, just thought you should know" and then head back off to bed. But upon noticing that Ghost wouldn't meet my eyes, I took the time to study him. His thin face was completely pale, his eyes red as if he had been crying. I could tell in my presence he was trying desperately to hold himself together.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded quickly before I even got all the words out.

"Fine. Go back to bed."

After giving me orders like I was five, he crossed his arms over his chest and sat back down, back towards me. He leaned his head back against the crate and shivered. Though it was slightly cold in the warehouse, I knew his trembling wasn't because of it. Stubbornly, I sat next to him and smiled.

"Having nightmares?"

Probably wasn't the best was to start, since he cringed at my words.

"Its not your problem, why do you care?"

Ouch. I raised an eyebrow and smiled wider.

"Cause you're my bro!" I elbowed his playfully. He remained limp, not looking at me. I just shrugged and continued. "And your problems are mine."

That coaxed a weak smile out of him. He sighed and lifted his head. He turned to me.

"You want the whole story?"

I was shocked for a few seconds. He must have been close to losing his mind if he was cracking this easy. I nodded.

"Nothing but."

He sighed heavily.

"I thought my dreams were worse before. I was wrong. Ever since Shepherd betrayed us his face has mixed its way into all my other usual nightmares. Now instead of them just being a once in a while thing, they happen every time I close my eyes. I haven't slept for more than an hour in days." He rubbed his eyes with his hand. "Happy now?"

Im going to be frank here, I didn't know what to say. Im not a doctor, hell, im barley a soldier. That didn't stop me from trying though, because I knew about comforting people than anyone else here. If MacTavish was in my place, he would tell Ghost to "Take ya mind off it by working" or something. Which, Ghost would probably do until he just collapsed from sleep depravation. I place a hand on his shoulder.

"Everything going to be okay Simon."

The lieutenant made an annoyed sound.

"Ah! Im so sick of everyone just telling me everything going to be bloody alright!"

He looked to me, afraid he had hurt my feelings. Though he was being his usual brand of jackassness, I could tell he didn't want me to stop trying to comfort him. Luckily for him, I wasn't.

"Im sorry Roach, im just tired is all."

"No problem, id yell at me too."

I flinched when I heard something move among the jungle of boxes around us. Ghost let out a small laugh at my jumpiness. I jumped down from the box.

"Come on dude, this place scares me. Lets go to the rec room."

Ghost shook his head and mumbled something about not wanting to see anybody right now. I checked my watch and saw it was three o'clock in the morning. I grabbed him by the wrist.

"No ones going to be in there for another four or five hours, come on."

He pulled his mask out of his pocket and skillfully slipped it on with one hand as he let me tug him out into the darkness.

…**..**

Ghost sat limply next to me as I flipped trough the television channels. Finally I stopped at an old horror movie. It was one of those old black and whites were some pretty dame goes running into the basement and gets killed. I sat for a good half an hour, remaining silent for Ghost. Usually when he had these problems he liked to settle them in his own head. I was just there for support, I guess.

Finally I looked over at him and realized something wonderful.

He was asleep.

He wasn't making any frightened noises or yelling in his sleep like usual. His was simply out cold. I smiled and turned back to the movie. After about an hour without a peep, I finally stood and grabbed a blanket and pillow.

"Simon, wake up." I whispered gently, nudging him. His eyes opened halfway.

"Wha? What's…."

"Shhh, lay down."

I pushed slightly on his arm, guiding him down on the couch. He complied and laid down, his head on the pillow. Before I even got the blanket around him he was back out.

For another three hours I sat on the easy chair by the couch, watching TV and swearing to god I better get into heaven for being such a great friend. Finally Ghost stirred.

"Bloody hell." He mumbled. He sat up, the blanket still tangled around his legs. He felt a giant spit stain on the cheek of his mask and pulled it off. He turned to me, still half asleep.

"How long was I out?"

"Three hours, give or take."

"And you sat there the whole time?"

"Well, I got up to pee once, if that counts."

He smiled and sat the rest of the way up, running his hand through his long brown hair. I stood myself and stretched.

"Well, lets go get some food huh?"

"What, are you my nurse now?"

"A damn manly one."

"Im not hungry, maybe l-"

I grabbed his wrist yet again and tugged him towards the door.

…**..**

"Enjoying your soup grandpa?"

Ghost looked up and gave me the finger, the spoon in his mouth. Though he explained he really couldn't stomach anything else right now, that didn't stop me from making wise cracks. I thanked god the mess hall served any type of food any time of day as I leaned over my morning plate of pasta and shoved a forkful into my mouth.

"Oh shit!" I cursed as a meatball rolled off the plate onto my lap. I grabbed it and tossed it back onto the plate, burning my fingers in the process.

Ghosts placed a hand over his mouth and began to laugh uncontrollably. I wasn't sure if it was from the still lack of sleep or not, but at least he was laughing.

"Dear god Roach, what would I do without you?"

I licked sauce off my fingers and shrugged.

"I don't know man, I don't know."

**Some people say my stories are to short, so here you go! Also, this is my first story written in first person. Do you like it?**


End file.
